


Going Out Like That

by kay_emm_gee



Series: Four Corners [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drinking, F/M, Hook-Up, One Night Stands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 10:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4561713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven Reyes was done with nice boys, and, with her red dress and fierce smile in tow, she decided to find herself a decidedly not nice boy. What she didn’t realize, though, was that nice boys were harder to avoid than she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Out Like That

Raven Reyes was done with nice boys.

She ignored the incoming text message from Wick on her phone, daring herself to feel no guilt for blowing off his not-so-subtle invite to go out with him tonight.

Wick was a nice boy, and she was  _done_ withnice boys.

She had fucking Finn to thank for that.

_Don’t go_ there, Reyes, she thought with fierce melancholy.  _You don’t have time for him anymore. Not tonight._

So instead, she tugged down on the silky material of her very short red dress, eyeing the bouncer appraisingly as she waited in line in front of the nondescript, rusted door of DROP. Anya had told her about this place, otherwise she would have never found it, hidden as it was in the side alley. That’s how dire things were, apparently—she looked pathetic enough after finding out her boyfriend had cheated on her that her prickly coworker at the garage where she worked part-time to supplement her school stipend was helping her get laid at some slight shady but apparently super exclusive bar.

It could have been a sad state of affairs, except she was dressed to kill, smiling a smile that said she wouldn’t just kill, but would dance on the grave of her victims. Nothing pathetic about that.

The dress and the smile certainly worked on the bouncer, and she was able to skip ahead of most of the line before she grew too antsy. Passing through the plastic curtain and metal chains into the main club area, she observed the rowdy, grungy crowd, enjoying the way the electronic rock beat rattled her ribcage. After a minute of soaking up the wild energy, Raven squeezed up to the bar, jostling aside tipsy girls teetering on too-high heels and boys with sneaky hands that she was just itching to slap. Still, she had a plan ( _drink, dance, decide_ ), so she ignored the irritating presence of others, focusing on her first task of getting buzzed enough to relax while still keeping a clear head.

Yelling over some indecisive women to her left, she bought a few tequila shots and sucked them down, no lime required. The brash sting buzzed on her lips, vibrating in time with the bass beat blasting from the speakers behind her. Grinning, she licked off the last of the tangy taste before maneuvering her way toward the dance floor.

She slipped into the undulating mass of sweaty, drunk dancers, letting the music and hot air roll around her swiveling hips, a barrier between her and those who wanted to choose her. Rolling her eyes, she pushed the seeking hands away. Tonight, she was the one making a choice. Tonight, she was in charge.

Time didn’t have anything on her, and Raven savored testing out her options, dancing with this one and that one, rejecting that one for being too forward and that one for being too polite.

_No nice boys_ , the tequila growled in her ear. That didn’t mean she would tolerate rudeness or disrespect obviously–but no nice boys either.

The man staring at her from behind the wrought-iron railing bordering the dance floor was definitely not a nice boy, she decided. The way his brown eyes followed her, amused and intrigued, but never possessive or demanding, was promising. It made her want and feel wanted in the most base way—no fancier trappings, no mature complications—just intense attraction and respectful interest.

“You want to get out of here?” She asked when she leaned over the railing towards him, flashing a coy smile that didn’t seem to ruffle him in the least.

He chuckled, dropping his head briefly so that his dark hair became even more mussed that before. Raven couldn’t wait to get her hands in it, to use it as an anchor and a guide as she got a taste of pleasure from him. She shivered at that thought, because his hands—large and solid as they were—seemed capable of doing just the same to hers.

“What, you’re not going to offer to buy me a drink?” He drawled, voice carefully playful.

She just raised her eyebrows— _do you really want a drink?_

Slowly, he leaned over, smirking a bit as his mouth hovered over hers teasingly. Raven wasn’t in the mood though, so she surged up, claiming the kiss as hers, forcing his lips open to slide her tongue against his. He fought for control, bringing a hand up to the back of her neck to angle her how he wanted. Pleased but also determined, she clutched at his shirt, pulling him down further towards her in retaliation. He wasn’t going to win this one.

“Tequila. My kind of woman,” he breathed once she broke the kiss off.

“And what kind of man are you?” She bantered back lightly, though this really was the make or break moment.

_Are you a nice boy?_

There was that smirk on his face again, its sharp edges making heat pool low in her belly. “One that you want to get to know.”

_Good answer._

Raven hopped over the railing—and if she flashed anyone, well, it was just their lucky night—throwing a smug grin of her own over her shoulder. She didn’t need to look back again; he was going to follow her, without a doubt.

She was just about to hail a taxi when he caught up, grabbing her raised hand and forcing it down.

“Not necessary. My place is around the corner.”

She grinned again, letting a little more fun into this one. She stalked after him as he slowly backed down the sidewalk, hands jauntily stuffed into his pockets and eyes glinting with danger and with promise, like he won the lottery and was going to spend his reward in the most irresponsible way possible.

Yeah, Raven Reyes was so done with nice boys.

* * *

Raven woke to an empty bed and the smell of coffee and toast. Her stomach dropped as she sat up, because freckle-face was supposed to be still asleep, passed out from their two amazing rounds of fucking the night before. She was supposed to gather her things and rocket out of there, without a second glance, leaving her night of fun behind, without a second thought.

Instead, he was making her breakfast, and only nice boys made their one-night stands breakfast.

_Damn._

“So close,” she muttered as she crawled out of bed.

She was able to shrug back into her dress and grab her shoes before freckle-face came back into the room, balancing two mugs in one hand and a plate of toast in the other.

“Gotta go,” she blurted, brushing past him abruptly.  

She was thankful that he didn’t try to stop her, just let out an amused sigh that was cut off by his front door clicking shut behind her.

Exhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and leaned back against the hallway wall for a moment. A satisfied ache ran through her muscles, because oh had he put them to such good use last night. It was a little hollow though, mixing unpleasantly with the sour taste of tequila coating her tongue.

It wasn’t until she made it downstairs and onto the painfully bright street that annoyance was added to the mix of head pain and warring confidence and self-doubt plaguing her this morning, brought on by coming face-to-face with Wick.

“What the hell,” she grumbled under her breath, scowling at his cheery demeanor.

His smile only faltered a little bit as he took in her appearance. “Hey Raven. Had a fun night?”

She could’ve handled it better if he sounded hurt, or angry. He just sounded _nice_. “None of your business,” she snapped.

Wick just rolled his eyes, though her barbed tone hadn’t drained the humor from them. “Pleasant as ever, Reyes.”

He apparently wasn’t going to engage with her, not on this topic. She almost wished he would.  _Fucking nice boys_ , she fumed as she watched him enter the building she had just left. It was only after a few minutes of staring bewildered at the notice-covered glass door that she realized this was where Ark University housed its graduate students on scholarship–like Wick, and apparently her one-night stand also–a connection she hadn’t made in her determined, must-get-laid state last night.

_Oh, fuck._

Odds were that freckle-face and Wick knew each other, as small as this particular grad student community was, and if that didn’t just make her morning more unpleasant. She neither needed Wick getting jealous (they weren’t even a  _thing_ , damn it, no matter how much she  ~~flirted~~  argued with him over his terrible designs) nor did she need freckle-face finding a way to track her down out of responsibility or chivalry or whatever. Not that she regretted her decision, not in the slightest–because it had been a good night, a  _needed_ night, one where they both had had a lot of fun–but of course it couldn’t be as simple as a one-and-done event. Apparently that just wasn’t her life at the moment.

Raven sighed, trudging down the sidewalk in grudging acceptance, because while she may be done with nice boys, they did not seem to be done with her.

_Just her fucking luck._

**Author's Note:**

> Title and story inspiration from the Reba McEntire song.


End file.
